


Cover Me

by amathela



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake and Amy go undercover, and other terrible ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missnumbat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missnumbat/gifts).



> Spoilers up to episode _3:10 - Road Trip._

"Detectives," Holt says stiffly. Or warmly. It's definitely one of those two. Jake is getting so much better at reading his emotions. "As I'm sure you're aware, during the course of our Giggle Pig investigation, Detective Diaz and I unearthed several promising non-Giggle Pig related drug leads."

"Which you followed up on," Jake prompts.

"Which we ignored," Holt says. "Until we could be certain that following them up would not compromise our primary investigation. Which went flawlessly."

"You bet it did," Amy says. "Well done again, sir."

"Enough flattery," Holt says. "I called the two of you in here because I need you to go undercover to chase down one of these leads."

"The two of us?" Jake asks. Yeah, that's not a good idea. It's not that he doesn't like Amy; that's actually the problem. Ever since the Worst Romantic Weekend Ever, since he found out she likes him - liked him, whatever - it's possible he maybe re-likes her, and he may not be 100% sure how to act around her any more. (Apart from literally pulling her ponytail, which, surprisingly, she did not like. Girls are so _weird._ ) "What about Rosa? Wouldn't she have more intel on the leads?"

"The subjects of this particular operation are Shane Hicks and his girlfriend, Lauren Temby," Holt says. "Hicks is a minor cog in his father's operation, but we believe he's privy to vital information. The purpose of the operation is to befriend the couple, earn their trust, and then manipulate either or both of them into giving up that information."

Right. So that's the answer to that question.

"The suspects are spending this evening at a prominent local nightclub," Holt continues. "Your names are already on the list. We have reason to believe their next shipment is arriving next week, so you have until then to complete the case."

Right. Spending a whole weekend with Amy. Alone. Undercover. Sounds like a fantastic idea all around.

-

The problem with going undercover with Amy - apart from the glaringly obvious - is that, like nearly everything else, she takes it way, way too seriously.

Right now, her taking it too seriously is almost giving Jake a heart attack.

"Wow," he says, and she smiles like he's about to give her a compliment. "Are you even kidding me with this? You look like Kim Kardashian threw up in your wardrobe."

"First of all, she says, deflating a little, "that doesn't even make sense. Second of all, joke's on you, because Kim Kardashian came here two weeks ago and she happens to have almost this exact same dress."

"Only in real leather, I'm guessing."

"Pleather is a real leather," Amy says. And then, "Fine, faux pleather. But the sales lady said it's extremely real-looking."

"The sales lady lied to you," he says. "You look like someone wrapped you in plastic and duct taped it together."

"Hey," she says. "I only used a tiny bit of duct tape. And only because it was kind of coming apart at the back."

"Classy," he says. "I bet duct tape's on their dress code."

"Better than jeans."

"Yeah, well, unlike you, I'm actually trying to fit in. I'm pretending to be one of those guys who's so rich, he doesn't need to show off about being rich."

"Which is strangely indistinguishable from being one of those guys who can't be bothered to own two pairs of pants."

"Exactly," he says. "Now, come on. We need to get in there so we can make contact."

"I know the operation," she says. "Better than you do, I'll bet."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. "Well, joke's on you, because I actually read the case file."

Amy scrunches up her face. It's completely adorable, and he pinches himself so he doesn't smile. "I don't see how that's a joke."

"Never mind," he says, and holds out his arm. "Shall we?"

It turns out, Amy's cheap duct-tapes faux-leather knock-off dress isn't at all out of place. In fact, he sees at least three other women wearing exactly the same thing.

"Wow," he says, as one of the women walks past. "How embarrassing for you."

"More embarrassing than us almost not getting in because you didn't meet the dress code?"

Okay, yeah, that part was not great. Or the part where he tried to bribe the bouncer with a twenty and the guy actually laughed. Luckily, having their names on the list still got them in; he just wishes he'd remembered that before Amy pointed it out.

"Whatever," he says. "We're in now. So we just have to find -"

"Found them," she interrupts him, which is infuriating but also super impressive. "Over by the far wall."

Sure enough, when Jake looks over, he sees Hicks and Temby. All of Jake's instincts are telling him to walk right over and strong-arm Hicks into a confession, but Holt's orders were clear: Befriend, then betray. Jake's done worse for his job.

"We should find a seat," he says to Amy. "Close, but not too close. Find a way to initiate contact."

"Roger," Amy says, her face way too serious. They're at a club, she's supposed to be having fun. He wonders what the precinct record is for being made undercover.

"And relax," he says. "Have a drink. Have a lot of drinks."

"We're working," she says.

"Undercover," she says, leaning in close so he can whisper in her ear. No use shouting it for the world to hear. "Which means the usual rules don't apply. The most important thing right now is to fit in."

Amy looks like she's wrestling with that for a moment, but then she nods, relaxing beside him as he steers them towards one of the only empty tables in the club. The position isn't perfect, blocked by a few chairs and a corner of the dance floor, but it's the best he can do for now, so it'll have to do.

"I'll get the drinks," he says, leaning in again. Amy smells good, and he considers saying so before discarding the idea. The idea here is to make things less awkward, not more. "You stay here and look like you belong."

"I can do that," she says.

Jake has his doubts, but when he returns, she's lounging against the table, her skirt riding up just a little in a way he tries really hard not to think about. She looks absolutely perfect, and he's pretty sure she's optimising her vantage point to boot.

"Okay," he says, handing Amy her drink. "How are we going?"

"Bored," she says. "What took you so long?"

"You don't go to a lot of clubs, do you?" he asks, though he knows it's a stupid question even as the words are leaving his mouth. 

"So I can be deafened while I wait forty-five minutes for a drink?" she asks. "Strangely enough, I don't really see the appeal."

Not that Jake does, either; he's not actually sure he can remember the last time he went clubbing recreationally, rather than professionally. Still, he's picked up some survival techniques.

"Here," he says, handing her a set of ear plugs.

Amy looks at them sceptically. "Really?"

"Trust me," he says. "They'll block some of the noise."

She still doesn't look convinced, but she does it anyway, and then grins at him. "You're right," she yells. "This is better. Am I yelling?"

Jake gives her a thumbs up as a response to all three.

The rest of the night is pretty routine; they have a couple of drinks, yell across the table at each other occasionally, watch Hicks and Temby through an increasingly thickening crowd. Every now and then he or Amy wander off to try to approach the suspects, but they're surrounded by a constant entourage of drunk idiots who definitely aren't going to help their cause. They've got all weekend, though, and most of next week; if they don't manage it tonight, they will eventually.

Jake almost jumps when someone approaches him from behind on the dance floor, then relaxes when he turns around and sees Amy. He raises an eyebrow at her questioningly, then glances over her shoulder when she motions to the table she just left. She's right; there are way more people here than when they arrived, too thick a crowd between them and the suspects to make the table a decent stakeout spot any more.

Still, even as he reaches for her he knows dancing is probably an even worse idea. 

"This dress really wasn't made for dancing," Amy says apologetically, as she stumbles against him trying to navigate the skintight faux pleather. It's hilarious, and also kind of doing things for him. But at least it's awkward in a way he kind of knows how to navigate.

"I don't think it was made for wearing," he replies, and then realises the implications of that. "I mean - I didn't mean that. That you shouldn't wear the dress. You should absolutely wear the dress. The dress looks amazing."

Fuck.

"What?" she asks, moving closer. "Sorry, I can't hear a thing over this music."

Jake breathes a sigh of relief. 

And then does the opposite of that.

"Come on," he says, taking Amy by the hand, leading her off the dance floor. Up ahead, Hicks and Temby are leaving, and he almost lost them.

It was stupid of him to get distracted. Sloppy. Like when Amy stumbles again, losing one of her heels, and instead of going on ahead of her, he stops so she doesn't get lost in the crowd.

The suspects, unfortunately, do.

Where did they go?" Amy asks, once she straightens up, broken shoe in hand.

Jake swears under his breath. "Gone."

Amy swears out loud.

"Impressive," he says, raising an eyebrow. "But unfortunately not getting us any closer. What do you want to do now?"

She holds up her shoe. "Honestly, I kind of want to go home."

"Home it is, then," he says. Probably the best call, anyway; they can go back to the precinct, give an update, and try again fresh tomorrow. "You need me to carry you?"

Amy makes a face at him. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, limpy," he says. "You look really attractive right now, by the way."

"Shut up," she says, shoving him. Surprisingly hard, actually, and he kind of stumbles against the wall and around the corner.

Where he sees Hicks and Temby.

Unthinking, reacting on instinct and a lifetime growing up watching terrible TV shows, Jake reaches for Amy as she comes around after him and pulls her against him.

"What -" she manages before he silences her, nodding towards the suspects. They aren't far away, close enough that they can almost be overheard over the faint thumping still coming from inside the club, and Jake thinks this moment might just be their shot.

At more than one thing, judging by the way his body is reacting.

He could - probably should - let go, give him and Amy some space. But then they risk startling the suspects, and he can't let their second chance get away. So he stands, pressing Amy up against the rough brick, trying not to concentrate on how good she smells or how soft she feels against him or the way he kind of wants to -

"Tomorrow," he hears, and stops thinking about it. "Dad wants me there ... no, we can go to the club first ... really big one."

So, that's it, then. They don't have most of a week any more; they don't even have a whole weekend. Whatever shipment is coming in is coming tomorrow, which means they need to make contact immediately if they want to salvage the op.

"So," he says to Amy. "I guess we're going to another club."

She wrinkles her nose. "I don't have to wear the dress again, do I?"

"Definitely not," he says. In fact, if he ever gets his hands on that dress after tonight, he's going to burn it. (Or not; he thinks the fumes might actually be toxic.) "Besides, if the shipment is tomorrow, I have a feeling it may not be that kind of club."

She frowns. "Then what kind of club is it?"

-

"Welcome to Lynwood Oaks Country Club."

Once again, Amy is weirdly over-invested in her outfit, which looks like it belongs in some movie version of a country club; white polo shirt, white tennis skirt, white sweater slung over her shoulders.

Once again, she is not the only person wearing that exact same thing.

"Nice outfit," Jake says, looking her up and down. For a little longer than he needs to, maybe. The whole preppy hey-you-can-see-my-legs look is doing things to him. Which he definitely doesn't need, not after the close call last night.

"At least I made an effort," she shoots back.

"I'm not wearing jeans," Jake protests.

She raises an eyebrow. "Because you're wearing sweatpants."

"They're sporty."

"Have you even heard of a dress code?" she asks. "Why did Captain Holt even put you on this instead of Terry? Or Boyle."

"Seriously?" he asks. "You'd rather be here with Boyle than with me?"

"At least Boyle appreciates the finer things in life."

"I appreciate lots of things," he says. "Like ... this piece of modern art."

"That's -" Amy starts, a split second before a tennis ball smacks him in the chest and he falls down, hard. "Not art."

"Got that," he wheezes out. He wonders if the country club has its own hospital. "Now we just need to find -"

"Oh my god, are you all right? That looked really bad."

Jake looks up, preparing to brush the woman off. The last thing they need right now is to call attention - all right, _more_ attention - to themselves, and they can't afford to get distracted from the operation. If they don't Hicks and Temby today, they can kiss their window of opportunity goodbye.

And then he actually looks up, and sees Lauren Temby standing right in front of him.

"You saw that, huh?" he manages to croak out. He's not sure if this is a good thing, or a very, very bad one.

"Hard to miss," she says, and then turns to Amy and does a double-take. A look of recognition crosses her face, and Jake spends a long moment thinking they're screwed before she says, "Hey, it's you!"

Only she doesn't sound mad. Or suspicious. Or like she knows Amy's a cop.

"You two know each other?" he asks, struggling to his feet. Amy, he notices, doesn't offer to help him up.

"We're, like, BFF," Temby says, and then leans in. "She practically saved my life."

He glances over at Amy, who shakes her head. Well, whatever she did, this is their in, and he's not letting it go to waste.

"Really?" he asks, feigning only a little more curiosity than he feels. "That is fascinating."

"Right?" Temby says. "Oh my god, you have to join me and Shane for a game. You play, obviously."

"Obviously," he says. It's hitting a ball with a stick, how hard can it be?

"This is so amaze," Temby says, grabbing Amy by the arm and leading her off as Jake mouths _amaze_ at her. He follows after them, trying not to laugh at the expression on Amy's face. "What are the odds of us running into each other again?"

Pretty high, Jake doesn't say. Not that he's particularly worried about giving them away; at this point, he thinks he could probably start flashing his badge and Temby still might not catch on.

"What the hell did you do?" he whispers to Amy once Temby skips on ahead and they have a moment to themselves.

She shrugs. "I ran into her in the bathroom at the club last night?"

"And?" he asks. And then, considering some of the possibilities, "Feel free to include all the details."

She shoots him a dirty look. "I gave her a tampon."

Oh. That's ... not as much fun as what he was picturing. Though more realistic, probably.

"Amy!" Temby interrupts them, waving them over. On the far side of the court, Hicks is leaning against the rail, spinning his racket. Showing off. "Shane, this is Amy and ..."

"Chad," Jake finishes for her. They're at a country club, he figures his name should probably be Chad.

"Shane," Hicks greets him, shaking Jake's hand - hard, he notes with very little surprise - and leering with Amy. Jake feels an unexpected and _really_ annoying burst of jealousy, and slings his arm across Amy's shoulders only partly to maintain their cover. She leans into him, smiling wide and fake, and for a second, Jake almost forgets they're acting.

And then Hicks grins, big and predatory, and he remembers exactly why they're there.

"It's a pleasure," Jake lies. "So, shall we?"

The plan is to lose on purpose, no matter how badly he wants to win. He's read Hicks' file, met the guy in person, and he knows the best way to get him to open up is to let him feel superior. As it turns out, though, his plan never has a chance to come into play.

Something new he's learned today: Jake is really, really, _really_ bad at tennis.

"You'll get it next time," Hicks shouts across the net after the third humiliating game. Or set, or match, or whatever the hell that thing they just played is called. There were a couple of reprieves when Amy forced herself over to Jake's side of the court, but he managed to talk her down from the hyper-competitiveness for the sake of the case. Not that it probably would have mattered much, either way; Jake's pretty sure he's terrible enough for the both of them.

The next serve that comes his way is embarrassingly slow, like something probably meant for a child.

He still misses.

"Just a little rusty," he shouts back. "I had a big ... shoulder injury I haven't quite recovered from." As if to illustrate his point, he rubs at his shoulder gingerly.

"Right," Hicks laughs. Whatever. Jake can deal with a little humiliation if it means nailing this guy.

Still, he relaxes a little when Amy approaches him, taking his hand.

"Maybe we should take a break," she suggests, rubbing her thumb over the back of his palm soothingly."Right, honey?"

And then she kisses him. On the cheek - it's not like she uses tongue or anything - but still. _Kisses him._ Maybe this undercover thing wasn't a terrible idea, after all.

Unless he's still trying to get over her, in which case, yes, it was. Only maybe he's not so much trying to get over her as he is - well, something else.

"Right," he says, after he's pretty sure something like a whole minute has passed. Smooth. Way to stay in character and not give away his feelings to Amy at the same time. "This place has a bar, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Hicks says.

Jake grins. "Then drinks are on me."

-

Maybe he drinks a little too much.

Not so much that he's actually drunk, of course - he's still a professional - but enough that, amidst the haze of overpriced beer and Amy resting her hand on his thigh ( _in character_ , he keeps reminding himself), he almost misses it when Hicks basically confesses.

" - not totally legal, but what's the difference, right?" he asks, looking at Jake for confirmation, and Jake manages to smile and nod. "Customs tax is all the same whether it's going to the government or some guy at the dock, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jake says, smiling for real this time. "No. But why don't you come down to the station and we'll talk about it some more."

-

In the end, getting Hicks to flip on his dad is embarrassingly easy. 

"All his assets, like, go to me if he's in jail, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the way it works," Jake says. _For legal assets._

(Temby, for her part, almost seems to want to roll over; unfortunately, she knows absolutely nothing. Or fortunately, he supposes; terrible taste in men aside, she actually seems nice enough, and he's pretty sure she already invited Amy back out to that stupid nightclub.)

"High five," Amy says once they've officially taken Hicks' statement, which indicts his dad in a pretty major way. That bust is going to be _fun_.

Less fun is him gripping Amy's hand at the end of the high five (he doesn't know, okay, he was going for one of those cool secret handshake things and maybe forgot that he and Amy don't actually have one), so it ends up with him pretty much just holding her hand. Which, great, now they're right back to awkward.

He seriously considers pulling her hair again.

"Hey, about this weekend," she says, at the same time as he says, "So," and then they stand around staring at each other for another few seconds, both waiting for the other person to speak first.

"About this weekend," he prompts, because Amy's pretty stubborn, he's pretty sure she could do this forever. And because he didn't actually have anything to say the first time around, he was just trying to break the uncomfortable silence. Super successful!

"Right," she says. "When I kissed you."

Maybe - maybe - his heart starts beating a tiny bit faster.

"You know that was just, like, undercover stuff, right?"

He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. He's been undercover all weekend; he can do it a little bit longer.

"Right," he says, wishing his voice sounded a little more normal. "Of course. Undercover."

"Right," she echoes. "I just didn't want you to think I was still, you know. Into you. I just don't want to make things weird.

Right. Well, that answers that, at least.

"Obviously," he says. "Ditto. Strictly platonic feelings all up in here."

"Oh, no," she says. "It is weird. I made it weird."

"No," he says immediately. "It's my fault. I made it weird."

"How could you make it weird?"

"Because I still -"

Great. Smooth. Way to be undercover as a dude who doesn't still like Amy. He did not just screw that one up at all.

"You still what?" she asks.

"Still ... think we did a great job on this case. Go team!" He briefly contemplates, and then rejects, high-fiving her again.

"Jake," she says.

Yeah, okay, so that was not a great save.

"Still ... maybe re-like you again a little bit. But I'll get over it. I'm almost over it."

"You are?" Amy sounds - 

Disappointed?

"I am?" he says. Not sure, any more. Not that it was really true to begin with. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" she asks. This time she just sounds genuinely confused. Which is understandable, this has gotten pretty convoluted.

"Are you ... I mean, do you ..."

Amy usually isn't one for rash decisions. Public declarations.

He so does not see it coming when she kisses him.

Or when someone clears their throat over the speaker.

"Ahem," it says again, and, yep, that's definitely Holt. Freaking fantastic. "If you're finished in there, detectives, I believe we have a case to wrap up."

Right. Two-way mirror. Might as well just shoot him now.

Except that Amy's still standing _right there_ in front of him, and she definitely used tongue that time, so ... maybe shoot him later.


End file.
